


he who does not forget

by chellian



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Cannibalistic Thoughts, Character Study, Gen, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellian/pseuds/chellian
Summary: a character study on Alastor.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	he who does not forget

Alastor is the God over all his victims.

His hands prepare a meal he had made for himself, as he smiles peacefully, dark eyes glinting with a craze around it. He listens to the tunes on the radio, knowing that he will have to broadcast his _findings_ all across Louisiana, perhaps the entire United States. It is interesting, actually; no matter how much he broadcasts the victims he murdered in excruciating detail, no one seems to bat an eye, only listening to it as if it was a tune on the radio invincible in time.

He lets his victims live for more than an hour, torturing them, taunting them, laughing at them. It brings joy to his life as he sees them begging for mercy or letting them live, but Alastor gives them the grin-splitting grin of his before moving on. His hands are touched with crimson, hair caked in blood, but he _smiles_. Nothing more, nothing less.

After all, hunting a deer or two would get quite boring and mundane for him. After all, deer would have the same reactions to getting killed: shock, fear, and desperation to live and be released. Alastor noticed that with almost all of the humans he had murdered reacted the same way as the deer he had caught. Too caught up on life to never want to feel the sweet release of death enlightening them. They were like multiple dolls that Alastor can toy around, play with, decapitate with just one pull of hands. People were just play things to him, merely letting him coexist in the same plane as they so they can be devoured by someone much stronger than them, someone who would murder them before they can breathe.

_People were food._

His mouth had always watered whenever he nears the subject of human flesh and the way it tastes, remembering back then he was an innocent child, curious to what human flesh tastes like. When his mother had let him in on her business, murdering people and converting him to food, he wanted in. Alastor remembered laughing while his mother’s victims scream in pain, a maniacal chill settling down his hear where it resides even today. Murders were so entertaining, and as a radio host he decides to include every intriguing detail of all his victims, from head to foot, from the opening of curtains to its end.

Once someone has interacted with Alastor Almighty, it is the end for them as their thread is cut short because Alastor cuts it with his own fingers, undoing a person’s life in just one snap.

He fixes his glasses as he turns the kitchen stove on and waits for his dish to start cooking, already feeling his hunger becoming irredeemable. At first, he only served himself human parts once a year whenever his mother is away, but it turns to an obsession, like a woman seducing him to her bed, denying it, but instead obsessing over her good looks. No matter how much he tries to eat something that’s not human meat, his stomach rejects it, becoming used to his cannibalistic urges and making him vomit in his toilet after consuming deer meat. No matter how much he forces himself to tolerate something not as delicious as human flesh, his body denies it, loving the monstrous and predatory urges as he tears the human meat apart, his teeth coated in blood.

No one can make him feel as complacent as the screams of the so-called innocent. No one will ever be innocent, no matter how pleasant or agreeable, you will never escape the jaws of death and your crawling mortality telling you to give in to it. You die of old age, or at youth, no one is supposed to fucking care because this is _real life_ , not some shitty fairy tale where you live forever, a wizard holding a staff with a pretty young face. But in reality, you will become old and wrinkly as your tale will pass time.

And if he is condemned in Hell, so be it, he shall make every demon bow down to him and respect him as a fallen angel, invincible and as powerful as the overlords.

Alastor looks towards the wall, full of pictures his friends had taken every hunting trip. He sees himself, holding a gun, smiling from ear-to-ear at the camera, holding a dead deer’s head by the antlers. This was the same smile he uses to his victims. Once their souls are either in heaven or in hell, he laughs to himself, because, for fuck’s sake, they will all be in eternal damnation, either way. Better to die an innocent youth than see yourself become a villainous adult, seeing the world through careful lenses and watching everything being destroyed.

But Alastor can’t help but feel that he will be caught. He has a burning feeling that someday, someone who actually had a brain would trace down all his murders to him and report him to the authorities. Yet who would believe them? A nobody against a popular and famous radio host, dazzling everyone with his charm and wit, with his beautiful voice he sways the crowd he has. He snaps his fingers towards the tune of the radio, accompanied by the saxophone and the voice of a woman.

Radios always makes him forget of the shit he had seen, whether it had been caused by him or another thing he finds repulsive, like, say, sex.

No matter what the world says, no matter how much he had murdered under his own entertainment, he will forever be the predator, predating over the great likes of man, becoming the likeness of Lucifer only in real life and not in the turning pages of the ancient and holy Bible he only reads whenever he feels as if he is committing the greatest of all crimes. After reading the testaments, old and new, he would restart his murders, but with a much more holier digression and madness than before.

No matter how many try to track down his murders and who it is, he will always cover his tracks, like hiding something under the bushes or burying a treasure alive.

Because he will keep this a secret until he dies.

Because no one needs to know their great idol and image of a radio host is a psychopathic killer who is known to have torn families.

Before he was a demon, he was a human. And before he was a demon feasting on his carcasses and broadcasting his kills through the entirety of hell, he was one a human who relished in blood.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are very much appreciated :)


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